Wounded
by Brielle.Page
Summary: After Octavia narrowly misses death by an Azgeda warrior, she makes the possibly fatal decision to not tell Clarke about her injury.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own The 100 or its characters. All rights belong to their proper owners. Let me know what you think of this story**

 **-Brielle**

Octavia stalked through the forest, whipping her head side to side, glaring at everything around her. The dark charcoal-smeared "mask" around her eyes didn't hinder her sight. She was always tense, and the fist around her sword only proved that as her knuckles grew white from the pressure. Azgeda was after her, but she thought she had lost their scout for now. She continued her sweep of the atmosphere around her so any hiding Azgeda couldn't ambush her. She pushed her hair off of her shoulder, not even bothered by the dirt or grease that covered her dark strands; it's always there so she'd grown used to it. She halted, listening. She heard something move, and clutching her sword, she spun, yelling. She made contact with the sword of an Azgeda warrior, his eyes narrowed almost into slits.

"Yu gonplei ste odon," he growled, grinding his sword against Octavia's.

Octavia shoved back, throwing the warrior a few feet away, and she gained her focus. He came running, leaping on her with all the force he could muster. The metal blades clanged loudly in the silent forest, and Octavia was thrown to the ground from the power of the leap. She quickly regained her footing, rolling out of the way before the warrior could slice her ankles off.

"You are not one of us," he said through his face mask.

"Ai laik Okteivia kom Trikru en kom Skaikru," she said. "We're all Grounders now."

The warrior spit on the ground, clearly in disagreement. Octavia didn't hesitate as she lunged, thrashing her sword towards the Azgeda, who skillfully deflected her blows. Octavia was small, and she used this to her advantage, spinning around his blade to get close to him. She took her elbow and slammed it into his gut. He grunted, momentarily off-balance as he stumbled backward. However, he quickly recovered and retaliated with a swift and heavy kick to Octavia's abdomen which threw he back.

"Nau yu na wan op," he hissed lowly.

Octavia stood up, a hand against her stomach. She glared at the warrior, her dark eyes burning. "Nowe."

"Em pleni!" The warrior yelled, charging at Octavia.

"Yes, enough. Let's finish this," she scowled, planting her feet firmly.

They locked into a deadly whirlwind of metal as the two circled. Finally, the warrior broke the dance and lunged, swiping at Octavia. She dodged the blow, returning the favor with a kick to his knee cap. His yell confirmed that she hit him squarely. He growled, lifting his hand and punching her across the face. Octavia felt the side of her temple split open from the impact, and warm blood ran down her cheek. She paused, her fingertips gliding over the warm liquid. She peered at her hand and it was indeed topped with bright red. She flung the blood off of her hand and sprung at him, but the warrior got a hand up. He knocked her sword away and brought his cold blade across her side. Octavia gasped, the metal burning into her flesh. She felt her skin rip apart, but she remained on her feet. The warrior came for a head blow, swiping a large arch at Octavia's head, but she was more prepared than he expected. She ducked and dove forward, slicing her sword through his abdomen. His eyes widened for an instant before he collapsed to the moss-covered ground, dark liquid pouring from the fatal wound.

Octavia breathed heavily, a trembling hand covering her wound. She could see that it was bleeding, but she would be fine until she got back to camp. She bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath, sheathing her sword before returning to Arkadia.

Octavia passed under the sign and entered into the camp which was full of her people.

"Octavia!" She heard her name called through the sea of people, searching for the location of the voice.

"Clarke," she said as the blonde girl approached.

"Have you heard from the scouting party?" She asked, her eyes hiding anxiousness.

"No, I split off from the group because we were being tailed by an Azgeda scout. Why, are they not back yet?" Octavia looked around for Indra, but failed to see her First.

"No, they're not back yet and they should have been back hours ago," Clarke said with a sigh.

Octavia glanced over her shoulder and realized that the sun was setting. She didn't realize how late it was; the search party left at first light that morning.

"Indra is tough," Octavia said. "I'm sure they're all okay."

"You're not though," Clarke said. She reached a hand up to her split head, touching her skin lightly.

"I'm fine, Clarke," Octavia pushed her hand away. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I'm going to look for them," Clark said.

"I'm coming," Octavia followed as Clarke went to grab her gear.

"O!" Bellamy walked to his little sister, his arms open. Octavia accepted the gesture and hugged her brother. "I was getting worried."

"You don't have to worry about me, Bel," Octavia exhaled. "I'm not a scared little girl anymore."

"I know," Bellamy said. "But I'm your brother so it's kind of an occupational hazard," Bellamy smirked.

"Where's Lincoln?" Octavia asked, pulling away from Bellamy.

"He's not here," Bellamy said slowly.

"He's not at camp?" Octavia asked in confusion.

"No. After you never showed up, he went to look for you," Bellamy said. "Kane wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't stop him."

"Clarke and I are going out to find everyone," Octavia inhaled and the ground tilted ever so slightly.

"Don't do that, O," Bellamy said. "We need to just wait until they get back. They're Grounders; they can take care of themselves."

"You can't keep me here, Bel," Octavia snapped. "I'm going." Octavia noticed that blood droplets landed on her boot as she walked and others dropped onto the mud, staining the ground a dark red. She shook her head, wiping away the thought.

"You ready, Octavia?" Clarke asked, her face smeared with dirt like many of the other people.

"Let's go," Octavia said, nodding to the gates. Before the two girls could even reach the gates, a voice pierced the fading daylight.

"Party approaching!"

Octavia and Clarke looked at one another before they raced to the gates. Octavia saw figures coming out of the forest, and she could see Indra's dark skin like a silhouette in the dusk.

"They're back," Clarke whispered. "Thank God."

Octavia took a step forward, but halted because she could feel the ground moving under her feet. Her side ached and burned, her muscles hitching every time the strips of her ripped jacket touched her flesh. She ran her fingertips over the wound sight, and she could feel blood squishing between her hand and the soaked material. Her heart was beating faster as she brought her palm into eyesight. A copious amount of blood covered her hand. She was losing strength, she could feel it.

Clarke motioned to Octavia, oblivious of what was going on. Octavia nodded, mustering her strength to make it over to the returned party. Indra approached, a smile almost turning up the corners of her lips.

"Ha yun, yongon," Indra said.

"Monin hou," Octavia gave Indra a slight smile.

"Were you worried, girl?" Indra chuckled.

"I had faith in you," she said, but her voice dropped as she struggled to remain upright. Her hand found her side and she stumbled.

"Okteivia?" Indra asked, her eyes narrowing.

Octavia took a step towards Indra, but then her legs gave out and she fell into her arms. Indra was strong, but she struggled to keep the young woman up.

"Sisen! Raun hir, sis ai au!" Indra yelled, but then switched when she remembered the company around her. "Help!"

Octavia could feel herself sinking away from reality and into unconsciousness. Indra kept saying her name, her voice stern as if she had some nerve to collapse.

Clarke and Abby were there immediately, and Octavia could feel vibrations on the ground from their footfalls and she could hear muffled noises through the last of her conscious thoughts.

"Octavia," Clarke gasped, her hands on her face, feeling her hot, clammy skin. "She's burning up."

"She's going into shock," Abby said, her hands already peeling away the material from Octavia's blood-soaked skin. "Oh my God," Abby gasped. "When did this happen?"

"I don't know, but she's lost a lot of blood," Clarke said. "We need to get her inside so I can suture this," Clarke said as her and her mother studied the deep wound in Octavia's side.

"Octavia," Clarke said, her hand on her forehead. "Stay with me. Don't close your eyes."

Octavia couldn't do it; she couldn't keep her eyes open. She struggled to breathe, her vision wavering. At last, the darkness overtook her and her eyelids lowered slowly until the void swallowed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**As requested, here is the continuation of my 100 story. Comment any questions or suggestions!**

-Brielle

"Octavia," Clarke's voice was muffled and her sight was blurry and unfocused. "Octavia, stay with me, come on."

Octavia's body was on fire, but she felt cold. Her body was shaking uncontrollably while her hands trembled. Various voices rang in her head like they were shouting at the end of a tunnel, but soon those faded and she was welcomed back into the arms of darkness.

"I'm losing her!" Clarke yelled as they carried Octavia on a stretcher into the medical sector.

"Get an IV and a suture kit!" Abby yelled to Jackson.

Clarke looked down at Octavia, the young woman's eyes closed as she laid on the metal table. Her skin was sweaty, strands of her dirty hair clinging to the sides of her face and mixed in with the dried blood on the side of her temple. Her face was pale, and in the light, Clarke could see that Octavia's whole side was soaked with her own blood. Clarke cut off Octavia's jacket from around the wound site so she could assess the damage properly. She inhaled sharply at the sight of the wound. It was deep, so deep that Clarke could see Octavia's ribs where her flesh was ripped open.

"Oh my God, Octavia," Clarke gasped.

How did Octavia make it back to camp having sustained this kind of wound? Clarke glanced out the door at Indra who stood guarding the doorway. Indra really had taught her how to survive. Unfortunately, in this case, instead of helping her survive, her tactics just earned Octavia a closer brush with death. She had lost so much blood, but even now, Octavia's wound was still oozing fresh, warm blood. Clark took out a bottle of alcohol, twisting off the cap, and put and hand on Octavia's hand.

"Hold her," Clarke said to Abby and Jackson.

Clarke poured the alcohol onto the wound, and Octavia, although unconscious, yelled in agony. She tried to move away from the pain by thrashing upon the table, but Abby and Jackson held her down. Then, Clarke found some thread and needle and began to try and suture what she could. She didn't know what to do about her ribs though.

"These stitches won't hold if Octavia moves after she wakes up," Clarke said to Abby.

"I agree," Abby nodded to her daughter. "With that wound right over her ribs, every time she breathes she'll be stretching the stitches."

"I don't know what else to do," Clarke whispered.

"We have to do this, Clarke," Abby said. "If we have to, we'll keep her sedated so the wound can heal a little before she rips out the stitches."

Clarke nodded, finally beginning the repairs to Octavia. She wasn't really counting, but Clarke assumed she gave Octavia roughly 30 stitches, and even then, she was worried.

"Get her to a bed, start an IV and fluids. Watch her temperature and tell me if it gets worse," Clarke said. She turned to Abby and lowered her voice. "If we need to, I'll be prepared to keep her asleep so she doesn't hurt herself."

Abby nodded slowly, her face hesitant. "It's the only way she'll heal."

"Let's just not tell Indra that, okay?" Clarke said before Abby left.

Clarke wiped her hands off, but they remained stained a light red with Octavia's blood. She waked to the door where Indra was still standing.

"Octavia is in the medical bay, but she might still be out for a while," Clarke said. "She lost a lot of blood. I'm surprised she made it back to camp considering how severe her wound was."

"She's a tough girl," Indra said curtly.

"Your training has helped her too," Clarke looked the dark-skinned woman in the eyes.

"She's always been fierce and stubborn," Indra said with a hint of pride, "I just taught her how to focus that fight."

Clarke smiled, wiping her hands on her jeans without thinking about it. "You can go see her if you want."

"Mochof," Indra nodded.

Clarke nodded in return as Indra walked briskly by her, her hand always resting on the hilt of her sword.

"Octavia," Lincoln exhaled as he came running up to Clarke, his eyes wide. "Where is she?"

"She's in the medical bay," Clarke said.

"Is she okay?" Lincoln said, his hand on Clarke's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Octavia had a run-in with an Azgeda scout. She'll be okay soon," Clarke said.

Lincoln exhaled with relief, the tension in his body melting away.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course," Clarke said, motioning down the hall.

"Thank you, Clarke," Lincoln said.

Lincoln found his way to the medical bay and to his surprise saw not only Bellamy, but Indra too.

"Linkon," Indra grunted.

"Indra," Lincoln said. "How is she?"

"Em ste yuj," Indra whispered, her arms still folded across her chest.

"Klark ste der fisa," Lincoln said.

"Sha," Indra said.

Bellamy remained seated during the conversation, catching some, but mostly becoming frustrated with the fact that they didn't speak English in front of him.

"Shish Gonasleng," Bellamy finally said. "Beja."

Indra looked at him sitting in the corner, surprise on her face.

"Fine," Indra said, walking over to a wall to lean against it.

Lincoln walked over to Octavia's bedside and kneeled. His dark hands reached for her face, his thumb running along her jaw gently. Octavia's face was pale, dried blood still crusted on her skin. Her temperature was up, and Lincoln could feel the heat that she was radiating from the fever. He took her hand in his, her fingers looping loosely around his palm.

"Ai hod yu in, Okteivia kom Skaikru," Lincoln whispered into Octavia's ear. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead before he stood up and walked out of the bay.

"Come on, O," Bellamy said to himself. He watched his sister from his chair in the corner. "You've got to pull through this."

"Your sister is strong," Indra said to Bellamy.

"She's stronger than I am," Bellamy said.

"You love her," Indra said.

"She's my little sister," Bellamy said as he chewed on his nail anxiously.

"She loves you too," Indra said without looking at Bellamy.

Bellamy's heart jumped at the words, because nowadays, he couldn't even tell if Octavia cared if he was alive. He loved her and he just wanted to protect her. Yet here she was, wounded and lying on a hard bed.

"Love is weakness," Indra said, and Bellamy gasped silently. "But Octavia's love for you makes her stronger."

"Mochof," Bellamy looked at Indra, nodding his head in gratitude.

"You're welcome," Indra said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we are again with another chapter! Comments and suggestion are always welcome! I hope you enjoy! And if you have another story or TV show you think I should write, please let me know and I'll get on it! -Brielle**

Clarke walked into the medical bay, her eyes immediately falling onto Octavia. She held a bowl of water and a cloth in her fist. Quietly she pulled over a stool and sat down by Octavia's side. She dipped the cloth in the water and gently wiped away the dried blood encrusted on Octavia's face. The red smeared across Octavia's tan skin, her flesh actually smooth underneath the layers of dirt and blood. The bowl of water became redder each time Clarke rung out the cloth, but Octavia's face was clean. Only the cut on her temple remained, and it was a sharp cut that was thin and small. Clarke pressed two fingers to Octavia's neck, feeling her pulse strong and steady. Then she felt her forehead, and although still warm, she was no longer burning.

"You're going to be alright," Clarke whispered, her thumb stroking her temple. "Lincoln is anxious to see you though, so you need to get better."

Clarke stared at Octavia's closed eyes, her face peaceful, and she wavered for only a moment before she stood and turned away.

"Clarke?" The hoarse whisper made Clarke's heart flutter. She spun around, her eyes wide.

"Hey, Octavia," she said and sat down on the stool once more. "How are you feeling?"

"Where's Lincoln?" Her eyes were wide as she looked around her. "Did her come back? I have to find him." Octavia tried to push up, but Clarke shoved her back onto the bed.

"Octavia, don't move. You have stitches in your side. Just breathing is stretching them because you had a slit down to your ribs. You need to stay put," Clarke said sternly.

"Clarke, you have to find Lincoln," Octavia gasped, her eyes wide with fright.

"Lincoln is fine. He's here," Clarke said. "He's been in here many times waiting for you to wake up."

Octavia nodded, swallowing heavily before laying back down.

"Could I get some water?" she asked, her voice gravelly.

"Of course," Clarke nodded. "I'll get Lincoln too."

"Clarke," Octavia's voice halted Clarke once more, and she felt her fingers wrap around her wrist. "Thank you."

Octavia's hand dropped when Clarke turned to answer. "I'm just glad you're doing better," Clarke said and at last exited the medical bay.

"Octavia is awake," Clarke said to the group of people gathered outside the Ark. Abby, Kane, Bellamy, Lincoln, and Indra were all huddled together in the daylight.

"How is O?" Bellamy asked, looking into Clarke's eyes.

"She's doing a lot better, but I'm afraid the hard part now will be keeping her still," Clarke said.

Clarke moved to get the water, renewing her bowl with fresh water and dumping out the bloody. She saw Bellamy and Lincoln walk inside, their heads up and their shoulders back. Always strong for Octavia. Clarke got the water and headed back into the dimness of the Ark and back to the medical bay.

Lincoln was already at Octavia's side, his hand cupping her face. He was speaking inaudible words, but Octavia was listening intently.

"Thank you, Clarke," Octavia whispered when Clarke handed her the water. She gulped it gratefully and exhaled loudly.

"You need to rest," Clarke said. "The more rest you get, the better you'll heal."

"I will, Clarke, but I-"

Octavia was cut off by Indra running through the doorway.

"Azgeda," was all she said, her eyes fierce with fight.

Lincoln stood immediately, parting from Octavia with Bellamy at his heel. The two men left the medical bay, leaving Octavia and Clarke in the room.

"I have to help," Octavia said, her face scrunching in pain as she tried to get up.

"No, Octavia, they can handle it," Clarke said.

"Azgeda is here because of me, because I killed their warrior, so that means I have to help defend my people," Octavia hissed loudly, her legs giving out on her.

Clarke managed to catch Octavia's arm before she could fall to the floor, but she immediately pushed her back onto the bed.

"Stay here," Clarke insisted.

"I can't, Clarke," Octavia said. "I need to be out there."

"Please don't make me do this," Clarke whispered to herself, her fingertips touching the syringe in the pocket of her pants.

"Octavia, please," she begged, her hands up. "It's for your own good."

"Let me go, Clarke," she whispered loudly.

"I can't do that," Clarke said, her fist now around the syringe in her pocket.

"I'm going to help my people, my kru," she said, but as soon as she slid off the bed, she inhaled sharply in pain, which then led to her gasping as some of her stitches tore. Like a domino effect, it all happened at once and very quickly, but Clarke didn't hesitate. She pulled out the syringe, uncapped it, and sunk it into Octavia's arm.

"What the hell, Clarke?" Octavia gaped, pulling away.

"I didn't want to do this, but you gave me no choice," Clarke's eyebrows raised in guilt, but she remained resolute.

"You-" Octavia stumbled and her words muddled together,

Clarke guided her back to the bed and laid her down gently.

"I'm sorry, O, but this is the only way," Clarke whispered. She watched Octavia's eyes flutter, her mouth still open in shock, before she slipped into the chemical-induced sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry in advance for the shortness of this story. The next chapter will be longer. Reviews and suggestions are always welcome!** **-Brielle**

Clarke stood there, the empty syringe heavy in her palm. Her eyes flickered from the needle, to Octavia's face, and back to the needle before she threw the thing against the far wall. She grunted in frustration and guilt as she stood with her hands on the top of her head.

"Clarke?" Her mother's voice made her jump slightly.

Clarke turned around quickly, lowering her arms. "I didn't hear you."

"Is something wrong?" Abby asked, her head tilted in confusion.

"No, not at all," Clarke swallowed uneasily.

Abby reached a hand out, but only managed to open her mouth before her eyes flittered to the shattered syringe adjacent to Clarke's shoulder.

"Did you do it?" She asked firmly.

Clarke sighed. "She didn't give me a choice."

"We both knew she wouldn't," Abby said. "She only would have hurt herself further."

"I know," Clarke whispered. "It doesn't make me feel any better about it though."

"What about Azgeda?" Clarke's head swiveled to the doorway.

"They weren't here because of Octavia," Abby said. "Roan had other business that he spoke to Kane and Indra about privately."

"They must know that their warrior is dead," Clarke gasped.

"They do, but they have no proof of it being any of us," Abby exhaled. "Lincoln was quick and cunning, spinning things in our favor with Roan."

"Are they still speaking?" Clarke asked, passing her mother to go to the door.

"As far as I know they are," she followed and placed a hand on Clarke's shoulder. "Let's leave Octavia to rest and heal."

Abby pulled Clarke by her shoulders, gently tugging her away from Octavia. "Come on, Clarke."

Octavia was strong, but she was reckless. Clarke's heart hurt from betraying her friend like she did, but Octavia wouldn't have saw reason. She was too passionate about protecting her people that she wouldn't have ever stopped. Clarke gradually gave in to Abby's coaxing, allowing herself to be lead out the door.

The darkness melted away to a blur of blinding lights. Octavia winced, the brightness hurting her eyes and her head. She scrunched her brow, at the sudden wave of pain that flooded her and let out a soft moan, not even really meaning to. Her hand went to her side where the bandages mounded against her skin. She couldn't open her eyes any wider than the slits where her lids were. She felt slow and her mind was foggy. She felt like she had been hit with a club…repeatedly. She groaned loudly and rolled over onto her good side, away from the lights above her. Finally, she managed to flick her eyes open. The cement ground was the first thing she saw, and then she turned her head to look around her, and she remembered that she was in the medical bay. Octavia swung her feet over the side of the bed and onto the cold hard floor. She moaned again, her hand finding her side. The pain left her breathless, so she sat on the edge of the bed panting like a work horse. Octavia felt weak, slow, and useless, which were all things she _couldn't_ be. Indra had taught her strength, she had swift reflexes, and she had always been one to help keep her people alive.

Octavia glanced to her left at the other beds lined against the wall and noticed something shattered on the floor. She tilted her head to the side in curiosity. She pushed herself off the bed, stumbling over to the pieces on the ground. Half bent over from the discomfort that burned through her, she wobbled on her feet like she was intoxicated. Octavia's legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, shouting in agony. She wrapped a hand protectively around her side as she laid there and took in painful breaths of air. With a trembling hand, she picked up a piece of debris and stared at it. A wave of remembrance washed over her, the broken syringe in her palm, and she recalled what Clarke had done. Anger began to boil in Octavia's chest, but she couldn't really be mad at Clarke for her actions. Like her, she was looking out for her people, her friend. Octavia sighed, dropping the shard. She crawled to her knees and pushed herself up, forcing her legs to hold her. Stumbling to the door, Octavia made it to the doorway before she collapsed against the frame. Her lungs shuddered in her chest, and the pain halted her inhale.

"YOU," a voice full of fury and despise caught Octavia's attention. She looked up and gasped. Echo, with her white face and dark eyes, stood at the corner with her sword drawn. She was shaking with rage, her eyes seething. She pointed the blade at Octavia before she said: "You killed Goti, and now, I will kill you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Another chapter is finally up! Let me know what you think or what you'd like to see in the story! -Brielle**

"No," Octavia whispered hoarsely. She shook her head, stumbling and falling away from the door frame.

Echo came at her, her sword pointed at Octavia's chest. Her dark eyes were filled with blood-lust, and her teeth were gritted together. "You will pay for your actions," she hissed.

Octavia fell backward onto the floor, using her good arm to pull herself across the cement floor, but she wouldn't stand a chance against Echo if she couldn't stay on her feet.

"Stay away from me," Octavia growled, trying to seem more intimidating than she felt at the moment. She bumped into the frame of a bed, and grunting, slowly pulled herself to her feet. She was unstable, but at least she could fend off an attack now.

"You killed Goti," Echo snapped, inching closer.

"He attacked me first," Octavia said. "I only defended myself."

"Really?" Echo scoffed. "You seem to be doing alright since you're the one who's alive."

Echo yelled and lunged at Octavia, and Octavia had to dive to the side to avoid being kabobbed. She yelled in pain when she landed heavily on her side. She was slow and not nearly as agile as she hoped. She got up to a knee, her breathing heavy, but her hand remained protecting her wound.

"You are going to pay for what you did!" Echo yelled, slicing at Octavia's throat, but she dodged the swing and fell onto her back.

"You have no proof I did it," Octavia gasped.

"I don't need proof," Echo snarled. "I only need your blood."

She screamed like a mad woman, barreling into Octavia and tackling her onto the hard ground. Octavia yelled, using all her strength to keep the deadly blade away from her, but Echo was a good warrior, and she was at full strength. Octavia's arms wavered as the metal inched closer to her throat. She eyed the blade and then Echo whose eyes were rabid. Octavia grunted, yelling in pain as she brought her legs up and shoved them into Echo's chest, sending her sprawling across the floor. That gave Octavia enough time to kick Echo's sword away with her bare foot and prepare as best she could for another attack. Echo tackled Octavia, throwing her arms around her waist and crushing her into the floor. Echo had the advantage now as she sat on top of Octavia, growling. She hit her repeatedly, her knuckles smashing into Octavia's face. Each hit was dizzying, disorienting, and utterly painful. Octavia grunted with each hit. She could feel her lip split open, her nose was gushing blood, and the cut on her temple stretched and worsened with each contact. Octavia lay on the ground, her arms at her sides, and her eyes barely open. She couldn't think let alone move, but at last Echo stopped her barrage. She sat on Octavia's chest heaving in air, her fists covered in Octavia's blood. She reached over and grabbed her sword, lifting it above her head.

"Jus drein, jus daun," she scowled and started to lower the blade when something hit her from behind. She sprawled across the floor, moaning in pain.

Clarke stood with a metal bucket in her hands, her arms still bent from the swing. Octavia gasped, her lungs feebly pulling in air. She coughed and rolled onto her side, clutching her torso.

"Octavia," Clarke gasped, throwing down the bucket. "Are you alright?" She fell to her side, stroking her forehead gently. Octavia couldn't breathe, so she just nodded and coughed.

"Mom," Clarke exhaled into the radio. "Bring Roan and Indra in here. Now."

Minutes later, Abby, Indra, and Roan came into the medical bay. Immediately, Roan halted, his eyes narrowing.

"What happened?" Abby gasped as she looked from Clark and Octavia to Echo's form sprawled out on the floor facedown.

"She was trying to kill Octavia," Clarke said as she stayed by Octavia's side.

Roan's expression was a mix of disbelief and rage, but Clarke couldn't tell who the rage was aimed at. "Tell me what happened exactly," Roan growled deeply.

"Echo," Octavia croaked. "She—she accused me of killing Goti and then she said I'd pay."

Roan stared at Octavia, his dark eyes suspicious. "Was she speaking the truth?"

Octavia took a few breaths before she answered. "Yes. He attacked me in the woods and I defended myself."

Roan shook his head slightly and widened his stance.

"Can we talk about this after Octavia gets some help?" Clarke whipped her head around, her eyes scrunched.

"I'll help you get her to the bed," Abby stepped forward and put her arm under Octavia.

Octavia exhaled painfully, her eyes clenched shut, and her forehead furrowed. She yelled in pain, her hand still against her side.

"Let me look at that," Clarke slowly peeled Octavia's hand away from the bandages. "Oh my God," Clarke exhaled. She glanced at Octavia who was sweaty, and her eyes were dazed. She gulped as if she could swallow the pain. "Mom, I need the suture kit."

"How—" Octavia gasped in pain. "How bad is it?"

"You're bleeding through the bandage, so you probably ripped your stitches," Clarke unwrapped the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around Octavia's torso.

Octavia stared at her shaking hand which was slathered in her own bright red blood. She sighed and laid her head down on the pillow, closing her eyes.

"Hey, Octavia," Clarke shook her shoulders roughly. "You need to stay awake until I know how serious your head injuries are. Listen to me."

Octavia shook her head, the fiery pain seeming to be everywhere. She opened her eyes and saw Roan dragging Echo into a sitting position against the frame of another bed. He got some rope and tied one of her wrists to the post. "In case she makes another attempt," he nodded to Clarke.

"Thank you," Clarke exhaled and then she focused back on Octavia. She set to work cleaning Octavia's cuts, putting a salve on her temple, and the focused her energies on the bandage. She cut away the white gauze, slowly peeling the material from the wound site. Clarke shook her head, biting her lip.

"How bad is it?" Octavia moaned hoarsely, not even lifting her head up.

"Your stitches are completely ripped," Clarke sighed. "I'll have to take the old ones out and put in new ones."

"Damn it," Octavia closed her eyes, squeezing her brow. "That's gonna be one hell of a time."

"You're tough," Clarke said. "I'm going to cut as much string away as I can before I pull them out, that way it saves you a little pain." Octavia swallowed and nodded.

Clarke took the pliers and snipped as much thread as she could risk before she pulled the rest out through Octavia's skin. With each one, Octavia gritted her teeth, hissing loudly. Clarke felt bad for her, but this had to be done or else the bleeding could continue, or worse, infection would set in.

"Done," Clarke announced as she set her tools aside. Octavia was breathing heavily, her face gleaming with sweat.

"God, Clarke, it took you long enough." Although she didn't open her eyes, Octavia gave Clarke a grateful and teasing smile.

"Don't go getting yourself impaled and that won't happen," Clarke returned.

"Aye-aye, Captain," Octavia saluted weakly with two fingers.

Now, rest," Clarke said sternly. "If you even move from a laying position, I will personally come in here," she pointed a finger at Octavia even if she couldn't see her.

Octavia swallowed weakly again, nodding. "Alright. I promise."

Clarke took one last look at the beaten, bloodied, yet still stunning brunette below her. She left the room, erasing her feelings from her mind, because down here, feelings got people killed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Time jump to season 3. This is a little spin from the ending of season 2 and what could have happened in an alternate universe.**

Clarke stalked through the gates of Arkadia, determined to put as much distance between herself and the people she'd betrayed. After Mount Weather, Clarke felt as though she didn't deserve to call them her people. She had known the missiles were coming, and yet she ran. She didn't warn anyone, and now Octavia, Bellamy, Kane, and even her own mother looked at her differently. The look on Octavia's face when she saw her unharmed…Clarke shook her head thinking about it. Clarke had fled immediately, although she had heard her mother pleading with her to come back. Clarke didn't deserve to stand there any longer. She would survive on her own, for the time being at least, until she could be accepted back into Skaikru.

Clarke stepped over a fallen tree, still traveling North-west. She hadn't seen Lexa when she left the scene, but by that time, she didn't care.

 _Yes, you do_ , a voice in her head told her.

"Shut up," she accidentally said out loud. "I do not care," she nodded curtly, yanking her bag back onto her shoulder.

 _You love her_ , it said again.

"No, no I don't," Clarke waved a hand, stopping. "Love is weakness."

 _And who taught you that?_

"Nobody," Clarke rolled her eyes, huffing. "Stop it, brain!" she cried, hitting her temple with the palm of her hand.

 _You haven't heard from her on the radio_ , it whispered. _What if she's not alright? What if she didn't get out in time?_

"She did," Clarke said. "She's the Heda. I'm sure she's rejoicing over the victory."

 _It is no victory without you, Clarke._

"No, without me, everyone inside Mount Weather would still be alive!" she shouted, grasping strands of her hair. "Without me, there would still be hundreds of people still living! Without me, the world would be a much better place!" she exhaled, letting go of all her pent-up anger. She took in several ragged breaths and leaned against a tree.

 _No, Clarke, the world is the way it is because of you. You have saved so many people. You need to remember that._

Clarke closed her eyes and covered her ears, willing the voice to go away. She didn't need sympathy. She didn't need pity. She needed…well, she wasn't sure.

 _Clarke, listen to me…_

"Go away!" Clarke screamed, sinking down onto the roots of the tree. "Stop it, you hear me!? Go away!"

 _Clarke…_

"Aghhhh!" Clarke curled in on herself, her heart pounding, and her head aching. "Go. Away!"

 _Clarke, wake up!_

"Clarke, wake up, please," she heard distantly. The voice was muffled, but it was the same voice. Where was she? "Clarke Griffin, you don't get to do this. You don't get to die. I need you by my side," it said. The tone was laced with desperation and sadness.

Clarke made her mind pick out the particulates. She was laying on something cold and soft. The ground, maybe? She could hear the wind, and she felt very solid hands touching her. Ignoring the pain in her head, Clarke peeled open her eyes.

"Clarke? Oh my God…" she heard, and noticed a dark blurry shape lower their head onto her chest.

She couldn't make out any details, so she blinked, getting out grime, dust, and heaviness. Finally, her vision cleared and she could see. "Lexa?" she whispered.

"I'm here," she said, her tan face streaked with black. But beneath that, she could see how Lexa's green eyes were wrinkled with concern.

"What are you doing?" Clarke lashed out, pulling away.

"What are you talking about?" Lexa's face melted into the similar neutral stare.

"You killed all those people!" Clarke exclaimed.

"Clarke, think for a minute," Lexa raised her hands, hoping to calm her down.

"Think!?" Clarke yelled. "Because of me, and because I listened to you, hundreds of people are dead!" she sat up, but then in the next breath yelped.

"Hold still, Clarke," Lexa commanded.

Clarke looked down at her torso and saw blood soaked through all of her layers. The pain had started to build, and it was agonizing. She also noticed that both of her hands were stained with dried blood, and that her left wrist wasn't working. "What happened?" she breathed.

"Mount Weather fired missiles at the village," Lexa said. "You and I were on our way back to the main square when you saw them overhead. We took cover in the nearest building, but it collapsed."

"But—" Clarke stuttered. "I saw them all die."

"It wasn't real," Lexa said.

"But—"

"It wasn't real, Clarke," Lexa almost growled, her usual dominating voice coming through. "You have to believe me."

Clarke looked around her for the first time and saw that it was dark. Above her was concrete slabs and under her was earth. They were trapped. Had she imagined it all? She looked back down at her injury. "What happened," she asked, nodding to it.

"A piece of debris with metal pole supports fell on you," Lexa said. "It went straight through."

Clarke sighed. "That's good."

"Good?" Lexa raised her eyebrows. "I think you and I have two very different definitions of good."

"It's good because that leaves less chance for infection to set it," Clarke said.

"Clarke…" Lexa sighed. "I-I don't know what to do." She looked unsure, and that was an unusual and uncomfortable look for Lexa.

"Well," Clarke breathed, wincing at the burning pain. "We don't have any sort of medical supplies, so we can't sew it shut. Maybe we should wait for my mother."

"No," Lexa said. "By the time someone finds us you could be worse. We need to deal with this now."

"Yes, alright," Clarke closed her eyes and leaned back. "You have a knife?"

"Of course," Lexa said, pulling out a small knife from her boot.

"Good. Make a fire," she said. "When that's done, you're going to heat up the blade—"

"So I can burn the wound shut," Lexa huffed, looking away.

"Exactly."

Lexa looked at Clarke, biting her lip. She hadn't realized Lexa had had her hands pressed against her wound the whole time. "Lexa, you have to do this," Clarke said. "I'll be fine."

Lexa nodded slowly, removing her hands and set to work making a fire. After she had done that, she came back over, crawling on her knees beneath the concrete.

"We have to do this quickly and then put out the fire so we don't get sick from smoke inhalation down here," Clarke said.

"I have to clean the wound so I can see what I'm doing," Lexa said, uncapping a canteen. Clarke only swallowed and nodded. With steady hands, Lexa rolled up Clarke's gray shirt and undershirt, the sound of blood squishing between the fabrics loud in the quiet. Clarke hissed and inhaled sharply, her eyes clenched shut.

"Sorry," Lexa whispered.

"No, you're not," Clarke chuckled dryly.

"Sorry that I hurt you? Yes. Sorry that I'm doing what needs to be done to save you? No," Lexa whispered, her thin, experienced fingers working with the supplies they had. She poured some water on a strip of fabric she ripped off her own shirt and balled it up. Then, she started wiping away blood. Clarke's breath hitched, and she sucked her stomach in, arching her back impulsively to get away from the pain. "You have to stay still, Clarke," Lexa said.

Clarke exhaled shakily, gritting her teeth. "I…can't really help it."

Lexa cleaned away the last of the blood and peered down at the wound. "It's deep."

"Just do it," Clarke sighed, laying back down.

Lexa reached behind her and pulled out the knife that had been heating in the small fire. The blade was a bright orange, and Clarke's stomach dropped at the pain that was coming. Lexa held it over her skin, and the heat was terrible, but she hesitated. "Are you ready?" she asked. \

"No," Clarke said. "Do it."

Lexa pinched the two flaps of skin together with one hand and then lined up the blade with it. In the next instant, the metal seared Clarke's flesh and she screamed. Without wanting to, she gritted her teeth, her fists dug into the ground, and then she screamed again, slamming her head into the ground repeatedly. The burning was worse than any pain she'd ever experienced, and it made it even worse because even after Lexa lifted away the knife, her tender and torn skin throbbed to her racing heartbeat. Clarke felt sweat dripping down the sides of her face, and the slowly melted into the dirt beneath her, her breathing heavy. She felt like she was drifting in and out of consciousness, but the pain kept her cemented in reality.

"Clarke?" Lexa 's hand found her temple. "Oh my God, you're burning up," she whispered, her voice steady but worried.

"It was probably getting infected," Clarke huffed, her eyes closed.

"You'll be fine now," Lexa said, wiping away sweat from Clarke's brow.

"Thanks to you…" Clarke's voice faded, and her head got heavier in Lexa's hands.

"Clarke?" Lexa gasped. "Clarke," she shook her head lightly, but she didn't respond. "Clarke, stay with me." Lexa looked up, hoping for someone to find them.

 _Some Heda you are_ , a voice in her head said. _First Costia, and now Clarke. Death follows you everywhere, Heda._

"No," Lexa growled, getting up from her knees. "I lost Costia. I will _not_ lose Clarke," she raised her voice, talking to herself. She got up and started shuffling through debris, hoping to reach the outside. As she shoved rocks away, she could see a pale light.

"Help!" she yelled, trying to wave her hand through the hole. "Abby! Indra! _Beja, sis osir au!"_ As soon as Lexa got the next breath out, she heard a sickening crack followed by several heavy thuds. _Oh no_ , she thought, pulling her arm out as fast as she could. In the next instant, debris and huge chunks of building descended upon her.


	7. Chapter 7

"Help! Abby! Indra! _Beja, sis osir au_!" The voice was distant but loud. Abby passed an injured Kane over to someone else and picked her head up, searching for the sound. She walked forward, waiting for them to call again, but it was silent. Her eyes scanned the destruction, and as she turned to leave, she saw a heap of building collapse in on itself. Instantly, Abby was running to it, across the wide stretch of cobblestone street, outside the village center, and to the door.

"Hello?" Abby called, carefully treading inside the building door. "Can anyone answer me?" She looked up warily at the little bit of ceiling left, but continued on anyway. She scaled the chunks of cement, rock, and dirt, getting over the wall of debris to see a little bit of open space before just more stone. Abby saw a small hole—and when she peered closer—saw a dying flame flickering at the bottom of the darkness. "Can anyone hear me?" Abby shouted again, but still no one answered. Taking a breath, Abby sat down and then lowered herself into the hole and into the suffocating blackness. As soon as her feet hit the ground, the overwhelming scent of blood filled her nostrils. She coughed, scrunching her nose. Through the dim light, Abby searched the dirt, and she saw a figure sprawled out on the ground. She got closer, straining to see who it was.

"Clarke?" she asked in disbelief. But, although covered in dirt and blood, Abby would be able to recognize her daughter anywhere. The only thing was that she was unconscious, and that was most definitely a bad sign. "Clarke, sweetie, can you hear me?" Abby crouched over her, placing a hand on her forehead. "Oh, God, Clarke, you're burning up," she breathed.

"Abby?" Indra called from above, her voice stern and cold still.

"Down here!" Abby yelled. "I found Clarke!"

"Is the _Heda_ with her?" Indra asked.

"No," Abby said. "Clarke is the only one in this hole."

"I have to find the _Heda_ ," Indra said. "She's still unaccounted for."

"Come here and help me," Abby said, looking up at Indra through the space. "Beja, Indra," Abby sighed when she hesitated.

Indra huffed but complied anyway. "Alright."

Indra dropped down, landing heavily on the ground, but she quickly scurried over to Abby and Clarke. She stared at Abby, her eyes sharp. "How is she?"

"From what I can tell," Abby squinted, pointing at Clarke, "she suffered a stab wound to the abdomen, several lacerations, and possibly a broken wrist," she said, gently picking up Clarke's bruising left wrist.

"Let's get her out of here and then look for the _Heda_ ," Indra said.

When the two women lifted Clarke into a seated position, she stirred, moaning. "Clarke?" Abby asked. "Can you hear me?" After a moment, Clarke's eyes fluttered open.

"Mom?" she whispered.

"I'm here, Clarke," Abby inhaled shakily.

Clarke's eyes roamed the small space before falling on Indra. "Lexa…" she coughed. "She was here…with me."

"Where is she now, Clarke?" Indra asked, gripping her shoulder.

"I—I don't know," Clarke said. "She was here when I lost consciousness. She probably went to—" she stopped, her eyes widening.

"What is it, Clarke?" Abby asked, following her gaze.

"That wall wasn't there before," she said softly, pointing to the huge chunks of rock separating them from the light. "There was more open space before," she stared up at her mother with worried eyes. "Lexa…"

Indra was up in an instant. " _Heda_!" she called, moving over to the stones. " _Gada ai_! Answer me!" She clawed her way through rock, shifting boulders, and ducking under the low-hanging "ceiling." She spotted a hand, dirt-caked and cut, sticking out from under a large piece of leaning rock. "Lexa," she gasped.

"You found her?" Clarke called as loudly as she could.

"Not quite yet," Indra's voice echoed. "I can only see her hand."

"I'm coming," Abby said, gently putting Clarke down and crawling over to where Indra had disappeared. Once there, Abby and Indra set to clearing as much off Lexa as they could without risking sending the rest of the building down on top of them. Lexa was unconscious, and she had blood running down the side of her dusty face, her face was pale, and she had a gash on her thigh. The two women pulled her out from the rubble and carried her up over the wall.

"Can you get her out?" Clarke asked, sitting up, an arm around her torso.

"We'll get her out," Abby said. "Stay put."

"Not a chance," Clarke said, already struggling to her feet. "I'll help."

"Clarke!" Abby barked, her eyes wide.

"I'll climb up the opening and help pull her out." Clarke ignored her mother and, although she could barely breath, she dragged herself out of the dark space and into the sunlight. It was blinding, but the air was fresh and cool. Without getting too distracted, Clarke turned around and reached down while Abby and Indra lifted Lexa together. Once Clarke had the back of Lexa's chest piece in her hands, she held her there while Indra scurried up, squeezing through to help pull her the rest of the way. They got Lexa up and out, and then gently laid her down on the ground while Abby joined them.

"You shouldn't be moving," Abby glared at Clarke, but she sighed and waved her off.

"I'm alright now," she said, bending down to inspect Lexa. "And—"

"What, Clarke?" Abby asked.

Clarke's eyes went wide, and then she set her hands on top of one another, right in the middle of Lexa's chest. "She's not breathing!"


End file.
